


All The Ways it Could Have Ended

by Kaspy



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Whump, Depressing, Gen, Sad Ending, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 10:43:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaspy/pseuds/Kaspy
Summary: A collection of all the ways it could have ended.





	All The Ways it Could Have Ended

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a robbery!”

Arthur raised his pistol, aiming it at the bank clerk. Dutch continued, “If you prefer to stay alive, don’t make any fast moves.” He gestured towards the entrance to the safe. “Mr. M, why don’t you take our friend to the safe?”

“Sure,” Arthur said gladly, shoving the clerk towards the door. Usually he’d have to ask, but it seemed his pistol was enough to make the man enter the code. Maybe the job would be as easy as Dutch promised. They were in a small town, after all, not a lot of lawmen to stop them.

The clerk sniveled as he unlocked another door, revealing three decent-sized lock boxes. “You don’t have to do this, you know,”

Arthur smirked underneath his bandanna. “I’m not sure you know what you’re talking about, friend. Now, open the boxes, we don’t have all day.” He pushed the barrel against the back of the man’s head, a trick he found usually hastened the process.

He could still hear Dutch threatening the crowd in the other room. Arthur knew it was all talk, but it sure as hell kept everyone behaved.

“Will you hurry up?” Arthur urged. He thought he could hear people outside, but he couldn’t be sure. The Clerk did as he was told, hastily opening the boxes.

It was everything they’d been promised, stacks upon stacks of cash. Arthur shoveled the take into bags they’d brought, slinging them over his shoulder. “Mr. V!” He called out, turning around and making his way to the front. “Let’s get out of here!”

He met Dutch’s gaze and smiled, gesturing towards the bags with his pistol.

Then there was a bang.

Arthur stumbled forward, bags tumbling to the floor, and placed a hand over his chest. For a moment, he wasn’t sure why it hurt so bad.

But then he saw Dutch. The older man’s eyes were wide and he acted fast, aiming his gun and firing. Arthur turned to look at who he’d shot. It was the Clerk who, even with a bullet in his head, still clung to a revolver at his side.

Arthur looked back to Dutch, then down at himself. Blood was pooling out of a hole in his chest.

Seeing the wound somehow made the pain worse, his knees buckling out from under him. Dutch was there to catch him, cupping Arthur’s head in one hand and covering his wound with the other. The younger man tried to speak, choking on his own blood instead.

“It’s okay, Arthur- don’t talk. You’re okay-” Dutch promised, but the fear in his eyes told a different story. One that Arthur knew far too well.

A bullet didn’t care if Dutch wanted Arthur to live. If Eliza and Isaac weren’t spared, why on Earth would he be? At least he could find some peace in that- the promise that he’d see them again soon.

Arthur could tell Dutch wasn’t thinking the same thing. “Come on, stop closing your eyes. I’ll get you out of this. Hosea-”

“Go,” Arthur wheezed.

Dutch shifted nervously, becoming even more desperate. “Don’t say that, son. _Please._ ”

“Stop being a fool, and go!”

Dutch didn’t listen, his hand stained red from his failed attempt to stop the bleeding. “You’re the one that needs to stop being a fool. You’re going to be _fine_ Arthur, we just have to get moving.”

“Dutch,” Arthur said, wrapping his hand around the older man’s wrist. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

“Of course you are, son,” Dutch said.

He kept _saying that_ , but Arthur knew none of it would change a thing. Still, he decided it was no use convincing the Dutch otherwise. He had a plan, he always did, Arthur just had to _hold on._ But holding on wasn’t so easy, and the law had a different plan.

“Hands in the air!” A young sheriff yelled, bursting through the bank doors. Three other armed men stood behind him, guns all aimed at Dutch.

For a moment, Arthur was sure they’d open fire, but they didn’t. So, Dutch, without turning to face them, whispered, “Can’t you see my friend here is hurt?”

“We don’t give a damn about your friend, now, put yer hands up before we shoot!”

Arthur tried to speak, the pain in the chest suddenly lessening, but he couldn’t find the strength. Dutch continued, “You’ll have to kill me before I let him go!”

The sheriff gave his men troubled looks before commanding them, “Grab him!”

They did, moving fast and pulling Dutch back by his arms. Arthur felt the cold bite of the floor as his head hit it, sending him into a dazed shock. _“Dutch?”_ He said faintly, barely able to make out the blurry image of the other man still grasping at his arm, desperately fighting to stay by his side.

The lawmen weren’t having any of it. They hit Dutch over the head with their pistols, causing him to finally let go. He was still fighting.

He fought them every step of the way, all while yelling; _“Hold on, Arthur! Please-”_

He tried- he really did. But then he was gone, and Arthur was left alone. At least- he thought he was alone. He only realized two of the sheriff’s men had stayed when one of them spoke.

“That one looks pretty rough, reckon he won’t make it long.”

“Maybe we should put him out of his misery.”

Arthur tried his best not to be scared, but he was. He was absolutely horrified. He thought of John, Hosea, and all the other people he called family. He thought about how Dutch would tell them. _If he even got out of this._ Maybe they’d both die and it’d just be _‘one of them things’_ that people mentioned in passing, but never really talked about because it was just too painful.

It shouldn’t have mattered to Arthur, it wasn’t like he’d be around to know.

When one of the lawmen pointed a gun to his head, Arthur thought he could see a spark of pity in the man’s eyes.

If only more men had taken pity on him, maybe it wouldn’t have ended that way.


End file.
